Her Tendencies
by Durriken
Summary: Dash's mom has a lot of weird tendencies...


**A/N**: My Helen fixation cannot be satiated, which results in many quickies like this one, so sit back, relax, and enjoy:

**Her Tendencies**

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Dash had a very weird mom. And not for the obvious reasons, either. Not because she was an infamous superhero-in-hiding, or because she liked her orange juice extra pulpy, or even because she didn't like jelly on her peanut butter sandwiches. By and large, those were pretty normal things, average and ordinary.

Except for the pulpy orange juice, that was just gross.

What made her weird were these… Dash didn't know what to call them—fixations? Tendencies?—but whatever they were, she always gave them equally weird names.

"The Lollipop Project," he heard her telling him sweetly, and she held up a lollipop. A simple dum-dum, strawberry flavored. "You see this, Dashie?"

Right off the bat, Dash's senses were tripped when she used the nickname normally reserved for when she was seconds away from coercing him into doing what she wanted. Sadly, it never failed, and as he watched her slowly unwrap it, he had a feeling the perfect success rate would continue.

"I see it, mom," Dash replied with heavy scrutiny, narrowing his eyes at the way her face lit up. "Now why am I seeing it?"

Instead of answering immediately, Dash watched as his mom set to work smoothing out the wrapper on the kitchen table. It was a methodical motion, like she were building up to the big ask. So Dash patiently watched while she worked, while she contently hummed to herself with that melodic voice of hers.

"Okay, Dashie," she began, taking a seat on one of the chairs, "you're taking origami lessons in school, right?"

That was such a random question that Dash took a page out of her book. Instead of answering, he pulled out another chair and took his sweet time sinking into it. It was a move purely to give him time to parse why she had asked, and to what end, but he came up with nothing.

The timing, however, was odd enough to stick out. His dad, the fantastic Mr. Incredible, was out with Frozone on some "heroic grocery shopping" as they called it—since that was basically the only superheroing they could get away with in public nowadays—while Violet had taken Jack-Jack with her and Tony to the park. Dash would have gone with them to give his legs that early morning stretch but he found his sister entered an entirely new level of annoying when around Tony and he just didn't have the willpower to endure it today.

When Dash felt a couple fingers under his chin, he was rocked back down to earth. He saw his mother smiling at him, legs crossed with one of her feet kicking to some tune. "And he's back," she noted with humor. "You plan on sitting sometime today orrrr…?"

Feeling stupid, Dash quickly took his seat. "Yeah, it's… we're doin' origami, yeah," he said cautiously, with his bottom lip poked out in a highly suspicious manner. That is, until she gave him a playful flick with her finger that caused him to suck it back in. "How dare you," he gasped jokingly and Helen smirked.

"I dare because I'm your mother, buster," she replied confidently, pointing to the wrapper with the same finger she'd flicked him with. "Use your power to fold that into whatever shape you've already learned, doesn't matter which."

Dash blinked, red lights flashing over his mindscape. Now he was _sure_ there was something nefarious behind all of this. "Wait, wait, wait, lemme get this straight," he started, joining his hands and pointing them at her. "You're saying you _want_ me to use my powers."

"Yes."

"The same powers that they have laws against."

"Mhm."

"The very same powers, mind, that you keep tellin' me and Vi' we gotta keep hidden."

"Vi' and I," she corrected with a soft giggle and he rolled his eyes, "but all the same, yes. The very same powers. Look, you know I don't mind if you use your powers inside the sanctity of the house, which, last time I checked, is exactly where we are," and she glanced around the kitchen, flourishing an arm toward the overhead sink window to prove her point. "Yup," she continued, squinting against the bright morning sunlight. "Still here."

"I mean, well, yeah, but—semantics, ain't it? Point is, you told us not to use our powers unless it was an emergency," Dash argued, nodding at the wrapper, "and turnin' _that_ into a dinosaur doesn't seem like an emergency to me."

"Guess it depends on what you consider an emergency."

"Mom…."

When Dash groaned, interest flickered over Helen's hazel eyes. "Waaait a minute… can you _really_ turn that into a dinosaur?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Wh—yeah, I think I can, it's big enough so probably… b-but I still don't—"

"I bet you can't," Helen interrupted, and the challenge in her tone caused Dash to puff his chest out of instinct.

"I bet I can—I _just_ learned it yesterday!"

"Nuh-uh, you'll probably make it look like a boat or something," his mother shot back flippantly.

Wow. The disrespect. The pure audacity of it all. Did she honestly think that he, Dash Parr, was one to back down from a fight? Fine. There was no forethought when Dash reached out for the wrapper, only a mad desire to prove his smugly grinning mom wrong. "Oh yeah? Okay, well then… watch this!"

So focused on the task at hand, Dash didn't notice the victorious little smile that curled his mother's lips, but he did hear when she said, "And don't forget to use your powers, I want to time this," to which he gave a distracted nod, poking out his tongue in concentration.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, hang on, gotta concentrate…."

In another's hands, the task of reforming that wrapper into a dinosaur would have taken at least ten minutes, but with his super speed, Dash finished in around fifteen seconds and held the little craft in his palm with an accomplished smile.

"There! See? Told ya I could do it!" he said triumphantly, and it didn't hit him that he had just been played, and quite masterfully at that, until his mother plucked the little origami dinosaur from his hand and set it on the table. "You… dang it, mom, you tricked me," he muttered, deflating where he sat.

It wasn't a question and yet the smile curling his mother's lips was enough of an answer. "Twelve years old and still my competitive little man," she mused, glancing at the clock on the wall. "And look at that, in only eleven seconds. Not bad, Dashster, not bad at all."

The sense of accomplishment that came with his speedy handiwork was overcast by the fact that he had been so easily fooled, and Dash grunted, hunching his shoulders. "You only got me 'cause it's so early," he mumbled shortly, avoiding her gaze by scowling at his knees.

"Naturally," Helen agreed with a touch of satisfaction to her tone that Dash couldn't quite place but annoyed him further.

"S-so, was that it? The, uh… what did you call it? The Lollipop Project? Was that all?" As soon as he asked the question, a looming sense of regret dropped over Dash like a thundercloud, mostly because his mother had reached out with her foot, slowly lifting it and resting her heel on his knee.

To anyone else, this might have seemed a bit odd, perhaps a bit too familiar, but to Dash, who merely regarded his mother's foot with a prolonged blink, this was just another one of his mother's little tendencies. Like he said, she had a lot of those.

"Of course that's not all, sweetheart," she told him patiently, flexing her toes in the most seductive way possible. She couldn't help but wince when Dash instinctively began to massage the foot she had graced him with; it was what he normally did, after all, and after so many times, he was a verifiable masseur. "I—_ahn…_ th-that was only the beginning. You know that…."

Rolling his eyes, Dash continued to knead his fingers into the arch of his mother's foot, rolling and pressing, ears perked to her hitched groans, hoping they would lead him to getting this finished quickly. It's not that he didn't like pampering his mother like this, because he really did—after everything she did for him, she rightfully deserved it—and he usually performed with far more enthusiasm than he was currently showing, but he had stayed up last night watching a marathon of old superhero movies and was still recovering.

Granted, the rhythmic tones of his mother's voice as she groaned was doing wonders to perk him up. And her foot was delectably soft, as were her slender toes, and he smoothly slide his fingers between them, gently pushing back and forth while his other hand pushed at her heel in a swirling motion.

"_Mmph… _D-Dash—wait," Helen struggled to get out, her cheeks aflame.

It was as if she had never spoken when Dash switched course, rotating the flats of his thumbs around the balls of her foot in quick circles. He knew full well that what he had done with that lollipop wrapper was just the precursor to something bigger, as was the case with her other tendencies.

This was what made his mom so weird to him. All these things she made him do, that she usually tricked him into, were all things that Dash figured she would have gotten his dad to do considering their lewd nature. It only made sense, because they were married; it's what couples did, wasn't it? What husband wouldn't want to massage his wife's feet? Give her back rubs?

"Fuuuh—_ngh_… Dash, you're g-gonna—"

Maybe it was because his dad was too busy still trying to relieve the glory days of a superhero life long past to give his wife what she wanted? Given the nature of these tendencies, Dash had it on good faith that his dad was sorely lacking in the intimacy department. He figured that because he wasn't ignorant to what she was doing, to what she was asking of him, not by any means. His mother was a woman, a very attractive woman at that, and with her kind of body—the curvy kind that left a trail of broken necks whenever she went outside—she was probably in desperate need of a passionate yet hard love-making session.

Snorting, Dash lifted her trembling foot to his lips and proceeded to plant a series of gentle kisses along the arch and just under her toes, causing them to scrunch and flex. Even while lost in thought, he had been paying attention to the increasingly hitched pants exuding from his mother, figuring she had been mere seconds from reaching the summit of his actions before he moved to caressing her soles with his lips. He had brought her up the mountain, now it was time to bring her back down.

"Y-you did that on purpose," she accused with a pout, still wincing as he gave her big toe the smallest of teasing licks.

"You had to know I was gonna get you back for trickin' me earlier," he told her matter-of-factly, dragging his bottom lip ever so slowly up the bottom of her foot as he gently lowered it back down to his knee. He gave her a comforting pat on the shin while sporting a tired yet wholly victorious smirk. "You okay there, mom? Lookin' kinda red in the face."

Almost before he could finish, Dash hissed out a gasp when his mother's foot dove between his legs with practiced ease, brushing up against something that caused his face to glow just as brightly as hers.

And now she was the one grinning. "You were saying, buster?"

"Not f-fair," Dash winced, struggling to repress the groan that quickly rose in his throat.

Holding her son in a gaze that was filled with an amalgam of love and voraciousness, Helen gave a little snort and squeezed her toes around the noticeable bulge that had grown thanks to her antics. At first, Dash kept his lips tightly pursed—but then she added another squeeze, then another, followed by another in quick succession and there was no earthly way Dash could keep his voice in. When that shuddering moan escaped, the delight that crossed Helen's face was purely predatorial and she nodded.

"A bit sticky in your boxers, are we?" she wondered sweetly and Dash fixed her with a bleary glare, his chest rising and falling.

That was another one of her odd tendencies, and probably one of the first that Dash became acquainted with. As was usually the case, he didn't know why but the sight of his face after she managed to bring him over the mountain that he consistently denied her was apparently one of her favorite things to do. And after doing it so often, she had become something of a master at it, knowing which strokes to use against him to bring out exactly what she desired.

"You are such a cheater," Dash huffed, and he wasn't sure what propelled him forward but in a burst of speed, he had his hand clenched around his mother's throat. "But I got somethin' for that…." When a surprised yet excited groan left Helen's lips, Dash knew he had tapped into yet another one of her weird tendencies. He didn't see the pleasure in being choked but she obviously did, evidenced by the way her body trembled and her legs seem to spread as if in anticipation; she was practically panting in his grip, fixing him with a sultry, half-lidded gaze. "You're such a weirdo, mom," he noted, walking two fingers up her thigh, and she retaliated by lifting a leg and hooking it around his waist, dragging him as close as she could, until their bodies were mashed together.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," she uttered thickly.

"This is true," admitted Dash with a hungry inflection, and he increased his hold, causing her eyes to flutter, "'cause I think you're startin' to rub off on me."

And when he greedily kissed her, as his fingers continued their painstakingly slow dance up between her quivering thighs, Dash knew he would finally be taking his mother over that mountain.

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A/N: #**yearoftheoneshot**


End file.
